Thanatos : The Red Dawn

(2)Tuscan Red Rogue

"Morte sii clemente..."

Tuscan red Rogue

It had been precisely a week ago when I'd first heard her infectious laugh.

After my meet with Hades I returned back to Earth to mull over this new information and to feed; my inhuman hunger was rising by the minute. My ill-temper was becoming harder to control. If I were to refrain myself from killing that girl, I would have to be stocked up with souls.

A small quiet town near Florence was luckily along my desired way. I quickly stopped for a snack, so to speak. I found a young man by the corner of the nearest pub. From the shadows I watched as he candidly asked every girl that walked past whether or not she could handle his, er... package. The answers were all the same; absolute disgust. I chuckled silently to myself, imagining all the possible ways in which I could kill this vile thing.

I could always morph into my female figure and perchance seduce the moron. His last, fleeting expression would be priceless. I would be doing this town a favour. Perhaps one of the damsels in distress would give herself to me?

Perhaps not. I rather liked stalking prey...

A slight touch lingered on my shoulder. I peaked behind me, a crease forming on my forehead. My shadow pressed itself close to me, its black figure had started to flame apart at the edges, creating an eerie, but beautiful frame. The black misty flames rolled off its broad shoulders and I quickly shot it a warning glance.

"You know I don't like to be rushed."

My shadow stretched a long, clawed, black finger towards the drunken man. I nodded my head and it smiled. If there was one thing about my shadow that I would never get use to, it was the fact that its teeth were even longer and sharper than mine. I stared at the wicked smile. In the beginning, I wanted nothing to do with my shadow.

Nothing at all, considering its nasty behaviour, malevolent streak and disobedience, but later I'd realised that my shadow was simply a magnified expression of myself. It was a real self-esteem assessor. My fangs, when extended, were about a centimetre long; its teeth were a finger long. My kill streak when my fury took over was a large town; its rage crumbled a city. My hunger made me irritated and quick to murder in cold-blood; its need for life made it fall apart. Quite literally.

I examined my shadow again. Its black swirling edges were a clear sign of hunger. I had to feed, before this naive town paid the price.

I shot another glance to the perverted man. He was busy tugging at a young woman's sleeve, her facial expression showing clear signs of revulsion and anger. I felt the cold air around me move along as I made my way past the shadows and into the blinding light. I narrowed my eyes, even though they were covered by my black hood. My cloak swirled over the dirty ground and created small, almost imaginary flames. I seemed to glide rather than walk. Nothing a drunk man and a pissed off young woman would notice. Not right now, at least.